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ational Copyrighted (in England, her Colonies, and 
tates) Edition of the Works of the Best Authors 


No. 366 




ix BE-HOOVES US 


A COMEDY OF CONSERVATION 


BY 


DORIS F. HALMAN 


Cofyright, 1918, By Samuel French. 


AMATEURS MAY PRODUCE THIS PLAY WITHOUT PAY¬ 
MENT OF ROYALTY. ALL O'MIER RIGHTS RESERVED 


PRICE 25 CENTS 


New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38th Street 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
23 Southampton Street 
STRAND 












IT BE-HOOVES US 


A COMEDY OF CONSERVATION 


BY 

DORIS F. HALMAN 


Copyright, 1018, By Samuel French, 



AMATEURS MAY PRODUCE THIS PLAY WITHOUT PAY¬ 
MENT OF ROYALTY. ALL OTHER RIGHTS RESERVED 


SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 West 38th Street 
New York 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
3S Southampton Street 
STRAND 



• A 32C±7 
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©CLD' 50fi90 

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IT BE-HOOVES US 


CHARACTERS 


Jack Sprat. 

Mrs. Jack Sprat. 
Aunt Sprat. 

The Policeman. 





IT BE-HOOVES US 

' * * • - f . 1 v ~l 


Scene: 77?e dining-room of a very new flat, zvith 
a table set for two, and much bright silver in 
evidence. Outside door, back; kitchen door, 
left; beedroom door, right. At right, front, a 
buffet, bearing the silver; at left, front, a large 
cushioned chair. 

When the curtain rises, the room is empty. Then 
Mrs. Jack Sprat, a pretty, very young little 
thing clad in a charming negligee, enters from 
the kitchen, carrying a dish of pale gray muf¬ 
fins, 'which she sets proudly on the table. She 
tastes one, and suddenly the pride is gone. She 
looks queer. 

Mrs. Sprat. ( Helplessly ) Oh, dear! (She rushes 
back into the kitchen and emerges with a very new 
cook-book. Sitting 'dozen, she runs through its pages 
zvith one hand, holding the muffin in the other) 
Muffins—bran—muffins —(Finding the place, she 
reads eagerly. Then she looks up, all dismay, ex¬ 
claiming:) Molasses! (She glances suspiciously 
at the pallid muffin) The molasses —(She is sure, 
and hopeless) Oh, dear! 

(Jack Sprat, very young and spruce, enters from 
the right. He beams at her through bow - 
rimmed spectacles.) 


5 



6 


IT BE-HOOVES US 


Jack. Good-morning, Mrs. Jack Sprat! 

(Mrs. Sprat thrusts muffin and book behind the 
cushions of the chair, and rises.) 

Mrs. Jack. Oh, darling! ( She rushes into his 
embrace) 

Jack. That’s right—humor a near-sighted, re¬ 
jected- from-the-draft husband, who can’t see across 
the room how lovely, how adorable- 

Mrs. Jack. Oh, dear—! 

Jack. Our first morning at home! 

Mrs. Sprat. ( Peering aross him at the muffins) 
Ye—es—! 

Jack. Aren’t you glad the honeymoon’s over? 

Mrs. Sprat. Of course—if you are. 

Jack. Well* those hotels—they half starve you 
in war time. 

Mrs. Sprat. (In alarm) Oh, Jack! 

Jack. ( Misunderstanding ) Do you mean to 
say you got enough to eat? 

Mrs. Sprat. Well, I suppose they have to con¬ 
serve, too—if they hoarded, you know—that is, 
they might be arrested- 

Jack. Can I get ’em arrested for the food they 
conserved on us? 

Mrs. Sprat. You mustn’t joke about such a 
serious- 

Jack. Joke ? Half portions ; quarter portions; 
fractions of food—! 

Mrs. Sprat. But- 

Jack. Home cooking’s the thing for me. 

Mrs. Sprat. We—we have to conserve at home. 

Jack. I shan’t mind that, with my own little 
wife to cook for me. 

Mrs. Sprat. I—I- 

Jack. Do you remember what you said one day, 
so divinely confident? “Any woman can cook,” 







IT BE-HOOVES US 


7 

you said, “ it is born in her.” Well, it’s not born in 
hotels. 

Mrs. Sprat. ( Faintly ) I didn't know you 
thought so much about eating, Jack. 

Jack. My dear, take it from me: it's bad food 
breaks up home after home, these days. Yes, that's 
what does it! 

Mrs. Jack. Oh! Oh! Are you sure? 

Jack. Cer—tain! And that reminds me— {He 
starts for the table) 

Mrs. Sprat. {Hastily) But we’re not going to 
have our little home broken up by that. Our home— 
just look at it. Everything so new. 

Tack. Enough silver to set up a jewelry shop. 

Mrs. Sprat. I’d die if anyone sent us any more 
silver. 

Jack. Well, who’s going to? Isn’t the stuff all 
in— yet? 

Mrs. Sprat. Oh, you forget. We haven’t heard 
from Aunt Sprat—she’s so eccentric. Nor from my 
rich uncle that lives in Cuba. Maybe he won’t send 
a present, because he never saw me. I’d have been 
named for him, if I’d beep a boy. 

Jack. I guess we can do without their old pres¬ 
ents ! But there’s one little thing we can’t do with¬ 
out, my dear! {He starts for the table) 

Mrs. Sprat. {With dread) What’s—that? 

Jack. {Cheerfully) Breakfast! 

Mrs. Sprat. Oh, yes. 

Jack. {Seeing the muffins) All on the table, 
too! And growing cold while we’ve been talking. 

Mrs. Sprat. No. That’s only the muffins. The 
rest is—cooking. 

Jack. Let’s start on a muffin, then. 

Mrs. Sprat. {Fluttering round him) Oh, I 
wish you wouldn’t! I don’t want it broken up! 

Jack. Want what broken up? 

Mrs. Sprat. The—muffin. 


8 


IT BE-HOOVES US 


Jack. Nonsense! But I’ll wait, if you want me 
to. How long will it be, dearest? 

Mrs. Sprat. Oh, the coffee ought to be done by 
now; and I’ll start the omelet right away. (She 
bustles toward the kitchen) 

Jack. (Puzzled) Everything sounds so piece¬ 
meal. 

Mrs. Sprat. ( Turning, indignant) Jack Sprat! 
You try and see if you can cook more than one thing 
at once! (She flounces out, zuith great dignity. 
Jack, left alone, 'steals a muffin, and bites into it. 
He, too, looks queer. Mrs. Jack returns zvith the 
coffee) 

Jack. (As she serves him) What sort of muf¬ 
fins are these, Elsie? 

Mrs. Sprat. (After a long pause) War— 

muffins. 

Jack. Oh. 

Elsie. (Gaining courage) I was afraid you 
wouldn’t like them. But it behooves us to Hoover- 
ize. You know it does. 

Jack. (Gloomily) Oh, yes, I believe in it. 

Elsie. (Cooing with relief) You poor dear! 

Jack. Maybe they’d taste better, with some but¬ 
ter on them. Haven’t you forgotten the butter, 
darling? - 

Elsie. (Unwilling to admit it) Jack Sprat! 
You—you—you can’t eat any fat! 

Jack. Why not? 

Elsie. It’s needed with ammunition. 

Jack. It’s needed with these. (He tastes the 
coffee) Elsie! 

Elsie. Oh, dear, what is the matter? 

Jack. The—coffee—Is it- 

Elsie. Why, of course, it’s coffee. 

Jack. But- 

Elsie. (With another ■■ inspiration) It seems 
queer to you, because it hasn’t any sugar in it. 




IT BE-HOOVES US 


9 

Coffee without sugar always tastes just that way. 
Yes. Really. 

Jack. Then I want sugar. 

Elsie. But Mr. Hoover- 

Jack. Look here, Elsie, we’re going ahead of 
the hotels on thj^! 

Elsie. But it’s so wonderful! It’s our share 
of the sacrifice. You see, you can’t fight on account 
of your eyes, and I drop stitches dreadfully when I 
knit. It’s just up to us to save food. 

Jack. You’re always right. 

Elsie. Cheer up, dear. It won’t have to last 

forever. As soon as I learn- 

Jack. Learn? 

Elsie. To knit better. 

Jack. Oh. 

• 

(They relapse into gloomy silence. In the midst 
of this, the doorbell rings twice.) 

Elsie. Oh, it’s the postman! Our first morn¬ 
ing mail! 

Jack. I’ll get it. (He goes out. Elsie scurries 
for the hidden things in the cushioned chair, but is 
forced to replace them as Jack re-enters) Letter— 
“Mrs. Jack Sprat.” Doesn’t that sound fine? 

Elsie. Let me have it. ( She opens, and they 
read together) 

Jack and Elsie. ( Reading) Dear Elsie, all I 
know about in this world is sugar, and so for a 
wedding*present I am sending you— Sugar! 

Jack. Hurrah! 

Elsie. Oh, dear! 

Jack. Your uncle in Cuba is all right! We’ll 
have good coffee now. I’m going to ’phone the ex¬ 
press office, and see if it’s arrived. 

Elsie. Don’t— don’t hurry. 

Jack. Eh? 




IT BE-HOOVES US 


io 

Elsie. The omelet's cooking. 

Jack. Oh, yes. I forgot. Is it a war omelet? 
Elsie. I don’t know yet. 

Jack. What? 

Elsie. I mean, it is, of course. Eggs are con¬ 
servation. 

(Another bell peals.) 

Jack. What’s that ? 

Elsie. It must be the back door. Don’t you re¬ 
member, the janitor rang it to show us how it 
sounded.- (She goes out. Here she must take the 
muffins with her. Jack reads the uncle’s letter . 
There is a thud in the kitchen) 

Jack. ( Looking up in dismay) She dropped the 
omelet! 

(Elsie enters from the kitchen, very excited and 

mysterious.) 


Elsie. Jack! 

Jack. ( Jumping up, alarmed) Yes? 

Elsie. (In hushed tones) The most awful 
thing is in our kitchen! 

Jack. Good Lord! A bomb ? What is there, 
Elsie? 

Elsie. A barrel. A half-barrel. 

Jack. A- 

Elsie. Of flour. 

Jack. What? Honest? White bread! White 
bread! 

Elsie. Oh, dear! 

Jack. But how did it get in our kitchen? 

Elsie. A man brought it. 

Jack. But who told him to? 

Elsie. _ Oh, I don t know. And we’re law¬ 
breakers ! 



IT BE-HOOVES US ' 


ii 


Uck. We are not. 

Elsie. Yes. Hoarding. We can be arrested for 
that barrel. 

Tack. What’ll we do? 

Elsie. I bet some other person was hoarding 
it, and got suspected, and shipped it here, because 
we were a bride and groom- 

t ack. That’s no reason. 

Elsie. And maybe the police have tracked it all 
the way— oh, dear, oh, dear! 

Jack. Well, if they’ve done that, they won’t 
blame us; so cheer up, darling. And we’ll get rid 
of it just as soon as we can. 

Elsie. ( Cheered ) How? 

Tack. You can cook it into white bread! 

Elsie. ( Dejected again) That’s no consolation. 

Jack. ( Trying to comfort her) Oh, I know 
how you fee!. White bread isn’t very patriotic 
now. But neither is hoarding. So don’t you see—? 

(The doorbell rings.) 

Elsie. (Starting up) The police! 

Jack. Oh, nonsense! (He starts for the outer 
door) 

Elsie. I’m frightened! 

Tack. Trust in me! (He goes out. Elsie 
listens fearfully. Jack comes back with Aunt 
Sprat, who carries a bulging knitting-bag) It’s 
only Aunt Sprat, Elsie. 

Aunt Sprat. (An elderly super-feminist) Only 
Aunt Sprat ? 

Jack. Well, you see, we were expecting the 
police- 

Elsie. Oh, dear— (She has jumped to her feet 
in alarm; nozu she turns the movement into a caress 
of Aunt Sprat) dear Aunt Sprat! 

Aunt Sprat. Didn’t think you’d be so cordial, 
when I hadn’t sent you a present. 


^ > > 





12 


IT BE-HOOVES US 


Elsie. As if that mattered! 

Jack. We have plenty of silver. 

Aunt Sprat. Silver! That’s just it. Silver in 
these times is tomfoolery. I waited for you to get 
into your own home, so that I could send you a sen¬ 
sible present. 

Jack and Elsie. Oh? 

, Aunt Sprat. Has it come? 

Jack and Elsie. What? 

Aunt Sprat. The most valuable present a hu¬ 
man being could receive—a half-barrel of flour. 

Elsie. Oh, was it you ? 

Jack. It’s in the kitchen. {He lowers his tone 
mysteriously) 

Elsie. {Also hushed) But don’t tell anybody. 

Aunt Sprat. -What’s the matter with you? 

Elsie. Some—someone might want to borrow 
my lovely present! 

Jack. Yes. You bet we thank you, Aunt Sprat! 
And we don’t want to share it with anybody.— 
{Then, politely) Except you. 

Aunt Sprat. My store-room is piled to the ceil¬ 
ing with its substitutes. Of course, I trust Elsie 
not to use it on wheatless days. 

Jack. Oh, she won’t. She’s a great conserver! 

Aunt Sprat. Good. Remember that every 
time you save, a poor soldier is spared suffering. 

Jack. It isn’t my fault I’m near-sighted. 

Aunt Sprat. What do you mean by that? 

Jack. Nothing.- I’m willing to suffer my share. 

Aunt Sprat. Well, the two of you seem to have 
the right idea. I’ll be going back, now I’ve seen 
you. {She takes a covered dish from her knitting- 
bag, and sets it on the table, lifting the napkin) 
These are for your breakfast. Thought they’d help 
Elsie out. {She displays a plate of dark brown 
muffins. Elsie gasps with horror) 

Jack. What is it? I can’t see* 


IT BE-HOOVES US 


13 


Aunt Sprat. War muffins. 

Jack. (Gasping with horror) Oh! 

Aunt Sprat. Have one. 

Tack. No. No. thank you, Aunt Sprat. 

Aunt Sprat. You’re polite, I must say! 

Tack. No, but—Why, you see, I’ve had break¬ 
fast. 

Aunt Sprat. Already? 

Elsie. Yes, yes. 

Tack. ( Smiling at her inanely) War muffins 
and all. 

Aunt Sprat. All the same, I think the least you 
could do, after I brought the dishful here, is taste 
one. 


(Jack starts toward her obediently.) 

Elsie. (Quickly) Oh, I will! Let me ! 

(Jack, all his chivalry aroused , puts her aside.) 

Tack. (Quietly and nobly) My dear, you have 
a husband. (He takes a muffin and eats. Elsie 
can only look on in fear\ Jack’s expression is won¬ 
derful to behold) 

Elsie. Oh, dear! 

Jack. (In huge delight) I say, Aunt Sprat, 
how did you ever on earth make the darn things 
taste like this? 

Aunt .Sprat. They’re just common, ordinary 
bran muffins. 

Jack. Are they? 

Aunt Sprat. What’s the matter? Did you 
think war food had to taste like poison, just because 
it was invented to do some good in this world ? Then 
all I can say is, you’ve got a happy surprise coming 
to the both of you. Try any war recipe, and find 
out. Go into any public place, and read the bulle- 


14 


IT BE-HOOVES US 


tins the National Food Administration sends 
around. You’ll find ’em hanging on big boards, in 
good, plain sight. Recipes and all. Try ’em. And 
when you’ve finished those muffins, come to me for 
more! ( She stops and sniffs the air ) 

Tack. Elsie, do you hear? 

Aunt Sprat. Did you say you’d finished break¬ 
fast ? 

Elsie. Oh, yes! 

Aunt Sprat. Smells like smoke. 

Elsie. From—from one of the other flats, I 
suppose. ( Her thoughts are on Jack, who has 
helped himself to a second muffin) 

Aunt Sprat. I never believed in apartment- 
houses for just that reason. Life and flour-barrels 
aren’t safe. Why don’t you complain? 

Elsie. ( Watching Jack) We’ve just moved in. 
—We don’t want to make trouble. 

Aunt Sprat. Then someone ought to save you 
from being burned alive. (She starts for the door) 

Elsie. (Going with her) Come again, won’t 
you ? 

Aunt Sprat. Yes, thanks. If you aren’t burned 
out. (She goes. Jack helps himself to a third 
muffin) 

Elsie. (Closing the door) Oh, dear! 

Jack. Darling, these are great! Why weren’t 
yours— ? 

(Elsie begins to cry, and falls in a heap in the big 

chair.) 

Elsie. (Between sobs) She’s worried about us 
being burned out—losing our home—and—it’s— 
going to be broken up—anyway! 

Jack. Broken up? 

Elsie. It wasn’t born in me—but how should 
I know? 


IT BE-HOOVES US 


15 


Jack. Elsie — you mean - 

Elsie. Oh, dear— Oh, dear— Oh, dear—! 

Jack. ( Bending over her sternly) Elsie, tell 
me this minute—! 

Elsie. I — I—I—Oh, you’ll never forgive me ! 

Jack. ( Fiercely accusing) You can’t cook! 

Elsie. It was bad enough having to hoard flour, 
when I didn’t want to —and hiding from the police— 
and now a divorce- . 

Jack. You— you - 

(The bell peals loudly. They stop quarreling and 
stare at each other in dead silence.) 

Elsie. The Police ! 

Jack. Oh, nonsense! (He starts for the outer 
door) 

Elsie. They trailed Aunt Sprat! I’m fright¬ 
ened ! ' 

Jack. Trust in me! (He goes out, to return im¬ 
mediately, looking sadly frightened, and follozvcd 
by a tall policeman with a snooping air) 

Elsie. (In a little shriek) Oh, dear! 

Jack. Er — come in, Officer. ^ Got the wrong 
flat, haven’t you? 

Policeman. (Snooping) Don’t know yet. (He 
looks ominously at the kitchen door. Elsie and 
Jack both start toward it) That your kitchen?' 

Elsie. Yes - 

Policeman. Gimme a look at it. 

Jack. (Getting between him and the door) No! 

Policeman. Why not? 

Elsie. The—baby’s asleep out there— ! 

Policeman. Is it, now? (He makes as if to go 
in, all the same) 

Jack. (Desperately) We couldn’t help it. We 
had it wished on us f 

Policeman. A foundling, you mean? 







i6 


IT BE-HOOVES US 


Elsie. Yes, yes—! 

Policeman. That’s no reason you should choke 
the poor little, thing to death, is it? 

Jack. Choke? What are you talking about? 

Policeman. With a burning smell, strong 
enough to knock a man down! 

Elsie. ( Crying out) The omelet! ( She flies 
into the kitchen. The Policeman laughs into a 
red bandana) 

Jack. Great Scott! 

Policeman. Bride and groom, aren’t you? 

Jack. ( Trying to hide his relief) Yes. Yes. 

Policeman. Well, new couples is excused a lot. 
But it’s dangerous. An old dame stopped me in the 
street just now—come from visiting in another flat— 
and says I was to hunt out the fire, or the building 
would go to the ground in no time. 

Jack. I see. 

Policeman. ( Leaving) You be careful with 

that wife of yours! 

Jack. Yes, I’m going to take her to a restaurant. 
(The Policeman goes out. Jack mops his bYow.) 

Elsie. ( Peering from the kitchen) I—I’ve put 
out the fire. 

Jack. How’s the foundling? 

Elsie. ( Flying to him) Oh, Jack! You won’t 
divorce me, will you? 

(Jack hugs her tight.) 

Jack. ( After a moment) Do you suppose— 
that the National Food Administration gives cook¬ 
ing lessons? {He begins to feed her with one of 
Aunt Sprat’s war muffins) 


Curtain. 











